Cupid Schmoopid
by i.heart.play-doh
Summary: He doesn't know why everything goes wrong on February 14th. As he struggles to barely survive the day at work, everybody's sitting front-row seat to his performance in the process. CaRWash...eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi, fellow Csi:Miami readers! This is my first time writing a fanfic, & i decided that a somewhat light story would be a good start. Now, i know it's far from Valentine's Day, but i've had the urge to write this for the longest time & i just couldn't wait until next year. **

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, i don't own the Csi:Miami characters or the franchise. If i did, then i woulda had all the genius writers' stories that i've read here created into episodes already!**

* * *

_Good morning, Miami! Today is February 14__th__, and Cupid must be looking over us as the rain clouds expected today is nowhere to be found! So good-bye rain, hello love! Prepare to be bitten by the love bug, folks because –_

"Love bug my foot," the man murmured as he grabbed his alarm clock from the nightstand and threw it on the floor. He rolled over to take his position in the middle of the bed again. "I'd squash you if I had the energy," he continued with a slur.

The digital alarm clock, equipped with a radio, had been the man's signal to wake up at his preferred time: 5:15. This gave him 15 minutes to dress out of his shirt and boxers and into proper running wear and 2 hours to jog outside or on the treadmill, depending on the weather. This left him at 7:30 AM, in which he would then take a 45-minute long shower; it never hurt to rinse and repeat…and repeat…and repeat. Gives a whole new meaning to squeaky clean, doesn't it?

From there, he had precisely 30 minutes to get ready for work and then leave with a paper bag filled with the same breakfast he'd had ever since he'd graduated from college. (He had discovered the wonders of 'ready-to-cook-but-add-water-first' ramen noodles from a friend in Stanford, who had conveniently left out that they would pack on the pounds faster than if he were to gulp down a cup full of grease. Once he found out he had sworn never to eat them again).

At this point he had exactly 45 minutes to drive to the crime lab while eating his breakfast-in-a-bag, realizing everyday how hypocritical he was. Here he was, an officer telling citizens to drive without distractions while talking to them with a mouthful of multi-grain bagel and orange juice. But it was a long drive, and the apple slices he had always sliced to perfection the night before just looked so scrumptious in the plastic baggie that he could never resist not eating in the car. Besides, he always had to eat his food in the same order: bagels, then juice, then apples, so that left eating the apples first out of the question. And he always had to chew them the same number of times: 25 chews before swallowing. After that he would –

'_Tis the season to be jolly_

_Fa la la la la…la la la __la_

_Sing with me! Ho ho –_

As he rolled over to the other side he told himself that _repeating your schedule to yourself is weird, and talking to yourself makes you a freak_, then stopped thinking altogether. "Damn ho of a clock. I'll teach you to mess with me." With eyes still shut his right hand fumbled over the drawer at his bedside until he found the second alarm clock, and threw it over his shoulder, landing right next to the first victim. "Santa clock, meet radio clock."

The second alarm clock was a remarkable talking/dancing/singing Santa Claus that was capable of only performing one not-so-remarkable act; _Deck the halls_. Years before he had plugged in "Santa clock" for the sole purpose of waking him up when the radio clock could not. Hell, Christmas wasn't for another 10 months and 11 days (but who was counting?) But he knew that his brain wouldn't let his body go to back to a peaceful slumber because a) he wasn't even Catholic, and b) he wasn't supposed to hear Santa sing his song. Ever.

Why? Because his off-key baritone voice filling the room meant only one thing… okay, maybe two things. One was that it was 5:18. The other meant that the grouchy occupier of the bed was 3 minutes late into his morning schedule.

Wait. 3 minutes **late**? His eyes flew wide open as his brain registered the holiday song and its significance to his now messed up February morning. He sat up straight and swung his legs to the right side of the bed, then cried out in pain as his right foot came into contact with Santa's red bag of boxy presents that were apparently sharp enough to pierce through skin. He lifted his foot to see the damage, only to discover that Santa was still attached to him. _Note to self: complain to Wal-Mart about their supposedly child-proof alarm clock aisle. _He sighed out of impatience. _Another note to self: stop talking to yourself!_

Setting his legs back on the bed, he continued to mumble. "Probably shouldn't complain to Wal-Mart. I'd end up being the laughingstock of the whole franchise. Who the hell steps on Santa's presents and gets his foot stuck, anyway? Oh yeah, right. Me. It _would_ happen to me."

But that was before he bent his knee for a reachable position, wrapped his fingers around the holiday figure, took a deep breath, and pulled it out as fast as he could. Quick and painless, right? Boy, was he wrong.

Ryan Wolfe, accident-prone and trouble magnet, has now experienced the literal meaning of 'waking up on the wrong side of the bed'. Once the pain subsided and his brain ran out of creating different combinations of the same profanities, he chuckled, "Accident-prone and trouble magnet. Good one, Wolfe; better remember to put that on my new business card."

* * *

**I'm sure you smart cookies already knew who it was from the first couple paragraphs. I hope it was as fun for you to read as it was for me to write. Please leave comments & criticism, but not too mean! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Um. I forgot to mention that in the previous chapter, i made up the ramen noodles and grease tidbit. And for those who also watch the Vegas Csi, the Stanford guy is none other than Greg.**

**Thankies for the reviews! It feels uber good to know i've got an audience. : Chapter 2's only got one actual Csi:Miami character, & the rest are made up. & this chapter might seem random, but it's an important part of the story. Enjoy!**

* * *

_7:46 AM_

Techno-nerd Dan Cooper woke up with a start to the _rata-tat-tat_ of the door to his audio/video lab. The knocker opened the door abruptly, sticking his head in the room.

"Mr. Cooper? Sir? The scary man is waiting for your report."

Dan turned around to see the night-shift newbie, one Lenny Wheeler. He was the typical geek, a 5-foot-10 lab tech who wore large, rectangular glasses with big shoes to match. Lenny sported a bold green button-down shirt with a pair of black slacks; he was obviously trying to look older than he actually was. _Ain't gonna work, squirt. You have yet to develop your Adam's apple,_ Dan thought. His dark brown hair, shiny and gelled to perfection just hours before had now hardened and seemed to be capable of cracking the glass windows if he had banged his head against them. Cooper decided he wouldn't want to find out any time soon.

"Uh… oh, right, my report. You can come in, you know. And stop calling me 'sir'. I'm not that old." He stood up from his seat and walked over to the desk littered with papers and folders. He shook his numbed right arm, then searched for the report Lenny was waiting for. With his index fingers he rubbed both eyes until he got rid of his sleepiness.

Reopening his eyes he noticed that his right eye was missing a contact. He shook his head until his pupils became accustomed to the Miami sunshine, and then turned to the other occupant in his lab.

"Wheeler, right? Which case are you talking about again?"

"Um. I don't know. The scary man just told me to get in here, take the report, and get to his office before he fires my sorry… you-know-what."

_Scary man? Oh, _he grinned, _guy must mean the night-shift supervisor, Charles what's-his-face._ _Guy doesn't swear, huh? Three days working for what's-his-face and he'll be cursing like a sailor._

The case was three simple robberies gone wrong. The night before a couple of thugs decided to sneak into three different convenience stores, each at separate ends of the county. Fortunately their attempts at trying to create three coincidental thefts didn't work out as well as they had planned. Thanks to Dan Cooper (the Wonderboy, he often referred to himself as), who filled in for his bed-ridden night-shift geek fellow. He sat in front of his computers for hours on end, scouring for any sign of uniqueness only the criminals acquired. One had a birthmark on his neck, two were identical twins with hair shaven off to make a thunderbolt, and the last had lost his two front teeth. Not surprisingly all four had criminal records.

He instantly knew which folder to look for, remembering how he had touched the tip of it with ketchup-stained hands from last night's nuked dinner in the lab.

"A-ha!" Experiencing dizziness from his half-blurred vision he bobbled over to Lenny, who was now just a green blob.

"Thanks, Mr. Cooper," he replied and left the room.

Cooper then removed his other contact, promising to get his second pair from the locker room later on. He returned to his seat, yawned big, and reverted to his sleeping position in front of the computers.

_But first, I gotta get some rest. Wouldn't wanna scare away the ladies with eye bags the size of a crater, especially not today. Cause today Wonderboy's becoming a man._

_--_

_7:50_ _AM_

Meanwhile, Annie the receptionist entered the crime lab with three dozen heart-shaped cupcakes. She made it a tradition every year to bake cupcakes on Valentine's Day. This year they were chocolate chip cupcakes with red frosting. On her way to her desk she saw Gloria, the evening receptionist, cutting out paper hearts and gluing them to her store-bought Valentine cards.

"Morning, Gloria. Let me be the first to say, Happy Valentine's Day."

"Oh! Annie! Right back atcha!" Gloria stood up, straightened her clothes and went around the desk to help Annie with the cupcakes. "Mmm, honey these smell wonderful!"

Together they placed the plates on the leftmost side of the semi-circle that was the receptionist's desk. "Cutting hearts, I see. Must've been a boring night." Annie claimed as she offered her elderly co-worker a cupcake.

"Believe it or not, you have been the most exciting thing since my shift began. Well, except for the three robberies. Come, come dear. Let me make you some of my special coffee while I tell you all about it. By the way – this is delicious."

Gloria always knew what Annie was thinking. She proved it by continuing, "Don't you worry. Nobody ever comes or calls this early in the morning."

Annie agreed, setting down her things by the desk and allowed herself to be dragged away by her friend. "You're probably right. And you know I can't resist your special coffee."

Gloria laughed. "That's the spirit. Those robbers were real dimwits, you know..." Her voice echoed through the halls as she began her tale until neither her nor her companion were heard from the front desk.

Minutes later a man dressed in green and carrying a box walked through the building's front doors, only to see it completely deserted. He adjusted his glasses and grinned mischievously.

* * *

**When i said 'somewhat light' i might've lied. Stay tuned to see. ****(Here's half a spoiler: The next chapter's gonna have most of the Miami characters, so don't fret. & you'll get to see what's happened to Ryan since last chapter.) More comments & advice, please!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thankies again for the reviews! They made my day.**

**Jag Lady, i hope your comment about my descriptiveness is a good thing. : & that since you mentioned it, i just might include everybody's love-to-hate IAB agent. **

**All right. So the chapter with the rest of the characters is in progress right now. It'll be up by the end of tomorrow, so if you're still interested in this story of mine, come check back once in a while tomorrow to read the next chapter. I can assure you that this is indeed a Ryan-centered story, with a lady-friend to be his Valentine a little later. This little part just needs to be inserted in to make everything make sense. Bear with me, please! So, without further ado, enjoy.**

* * *

_7:58 AM_

The mystery man looked to his left and then to his right. He walked briskly up to the front desk, not worrying about making too much noise.

Taking two whiffs of the surrounding air, his smile grew wider. He rubbed the lenses of his large black glasses to make sure he wasn't hallucinating… he wasn't.

Carelessly he dropped the box he had been carrying on the floor. He completely forgot about his mission in the next minute, and suddenly began tip-toeing to his left. It seems he had lost his ego-powered bravery as he repeatedly searched for a camera or a witness that would record the worst crime he had committed to date. _Good, good. Nobody in sight. Time to do my thing. _He was nearing his destination, and at the same time savagery as well as extreme desire flowed through his bloodstream.

For extra security he canvassed the crime lab's foyer, and after reassuring himself that no one was watching, jogged to the leftmost side of the receptionist's desk. He hadn't done this in a long time, and he sure as hell wasn't about to get caught.

_Mission accomplished,_ he thought as his hands swiftly grabbed the object of his instant craving. A red-frosted heart-shaped chocolate cupcake. _Come to papa._ The tasty pastry was just inches away from being in its rightful place (which was in his hungry mouth) when –

"Hey you!"

--

_7:58 AM_

Just minutes after he had dozed off to sleep did Wonderboy open his eyes for the second time in a span of 15 minutes (it was actually 12 but there was no need to be exact; he wasn't about to pull a Wolfe – at least, not this early in the day).

Nonetheless he knew that he would never be able to fall asleep again for a while. With this in mind he stood up, stretched his arms and back, let out a long sigh and exited his humble abode.

The distance from his lab to the locker room was relatively far, but he was glad for the exercise. After all, watching the camera surveillances from three convenience stores without taking more than a 5-minute break was bound to leave him with a trucker-butt. And since the bathrooms were on the way, a trip there wouldn't hurt either.

Cooper found the men's bathroom with ease. He had been working at the Miami-Dade Crime Lab for a number of years, so even without his contacts he failed to enter the wrong bathroom. He stood in the urinal stall closest to the door and let loose, simultaneously cooking up another dirty plan he liked to call 'Dan-Plans' (sure, the name needed work, but he was too busy thinking of outrageous Dan-Plans to even care.)

A smile crawled on his face, both from relieving his bladder from cans upon cans of Red Bull as well as his new scheme. _Step 1: Wait for my lady-friends to have to go to the john. Step 2: Take out contacts and walk in the bathroom, thinking that it's the men's. Step 3: Hope that they'll buy my act and that some of them will be changing their clothes... and not in the stalls. _

Okay, so it was probably the dumbest plan to any other person, but to Dan Cooper it was genius. Foolproof… Absolutely the most hare-brained scheme ever. _No, scratch that; wouldn't wanna be insulting the rabbits. _But it could happen, right? They get dirty from a crime scene and want to change into clean garments outside the stalls…right?

He absentmindedly zipped up his pants and flushed the urinal. He returned to the real world when he heard the water draining the remnants of his Red Bull. Seeing his blurry reflection in the mirror, he realized that he couldn't recall how he had gotten from the urinal to the sink, but shook it off like he did the water from his newly-washed hands.

Leaving the bathroom, he once again walked in the direction of the locker room, where he retrieved his back-up contacts. He was so close to being able to see again when he unexpectedly remembered something that was vitally important: he had forgotten to sign the report he had given to Wheeler, the newbie. So he placed his contacts back in their cases and practically sprinted out of the locker room.

"Wheeler! Hey, newbie!" Cooper continued to shout down the halls and survey each glass-walled lab for the night-shift scaredy-cat. _Squirt's probably hiding from his supervisor._

"Where are you, dude?" He whispered to himself as he gradually slowed down to a jog. _Come on, show yourself. If anybody else sees that incomplete report, I am so out of here._

The 'blind' lab tech almost gave up when he saw a green blob standing at the front desk. _If I remember correctly, Lenny was a green blob too._ He retreated to his sprint.

"Hey you!"

The man turned around, eyes wide. Total deer-in-headlights look. At that moment the cupcake frosting had scraped onto a piece of paper that was beside the plates of cupcakes.

He feared that he was caught red-handed, literally. Immediately he remembered that he was a deliveryman and that he indeed had a reason why he was at the crime lab.

"I've…been looking for you." He replied as he took the clipboard from underneath his arm and held it out in front of Dan while he cupped the stolen pastry in his other hand. "See, I'm here because of this box that's addressed to this place…." His voice faded until Cooper could no longer hear him talking. He made no sign that he was even listening to the deliveryman as his eyebrows frowned and his nose sniffed.

_Do I smell cupcakes? _He inhaled deeply. _My nose never deceives me. _He treaded slowly and waited for the sugary smell to become stronger. Seconds later he was in front of the plates with a full-toothed grin. _I make the K-9 unit look amateur._

"… and I just need you to sign this, sir."

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me 'sir'?" Cooper reached into his lab coat pocket and took out a pen.

Signing the paper, Cooper failed to see that it had been a proof of delivery that he was John Hancock-ing. He also missed the cupcake the man had taken, given that he was practically blind without his contacts.

But the man didn't know and he didn't mind. Once he had finished signing he could actually get away with taking a free cupcake.

"All right, here you go."

He took his clipboard back and looked down to make sure he had signed at the right spot. The signature looked like chicken scratch, but a signature's a signature. He was about to inform the other man where he had put the box when he looked up and saw that he was alone in the foyer once again.

The deliveryman left the crime lab, and almost made it out of the property when he tripped on a rather massive rock. On his way to the concrete ground he released his hold on the cupcake, resulting in a small _splat!_ a few feet away from where he fell.

_Damn. So close._

* * *

**I hope that the first couple paragraphs got you on the edge of your seats. So who thought the guy was Wheeler & the box was a bomb? Hehe. Just to let you know that what was happening to the deliveryman & Dan was going on at the same time, up till the point when they meet.  
**

**Also, i made up a lot of stuff here. 1) i have no idea what the floor plan of the crime lab looks like. 2) i'm not sure about the proof of delivery paper is what it's actually called. 3) i don't know if dan does wear contacts. **

**You know the drill. Clickie the review button & leave your thoughts, pretty please. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Heyheyhey! Here's the next installment, now with most of the actual characters we all know & love. **

**Thankies for the reviews; because of them, this chapter is twice as long as the others & has a bit of the ship that this story is going to be about. I hope that even though you might not be a fan of this ship, that you'll still read it & give me comments, cause my writing's not even close to perfect.**

**Also, to my readers, read closely & pay attention. I can guarantee you that this story will be intertwined with the little pieces of information that i leave behind in my descriptiveness. (Thank you, JagLady! I have a very vivid imagination, so details hopefully help you all to follow along with my story & see where i'm going with this.)**

**I apologize in advance for the poor grammar & spelling errors that i might have overlooked. So, enjoy!**

* * *

_9:24 AM_

"Now are you absolutely sure that Mr. Wolfe hasn't been kidnapped? In an accident? Out of the country?"

"Yes, Horatio. He just left me a message. I can't believe you would think he got into an accident just because he's a couple minutes late."

"He could be stuck in traffic, you know."

"Mm. No, if he were in that situation, he would have left his car and ran the whole distance just to make it on time. This is Ryan Wolfe we're talking about, Eric. And Calleigh, same thing goes for you. It's Mr. Wolfe. He just doesn't have the ability to… _be behind schedule_."

"Come to think of it, H, you're right. I've never seen Wolfe late for _anything_. Almost makes me believe something worse than waking up late did happen to him."

"Men. Always thinking the worst of things. I'm sure Ryan's got a perfectly logical and reasonable explanation as to why he's not here to 'Bon Voyage' you out of this place. Speaking of, you should go soon."

"Actually, I should have gone 4 minutes ago."

"Horatio, sweetie. If you don't leave this instant you're gonna make me think that you're purposely trying to miss your flight to the conference. Go on, get. You've got a one-day vacation, honey. And don't be calling here; it can wait until tomorrow, when you get back."

"Alexx! Nice of you to join the farewell party. Only person left to make an appearance is Wolfe."

The obviously impatient cabdriver gave the small crowd gathered by the building's front steps a rude _honk!_, reminding his passenger of the extensively heavy morning traffic on the way to the airport. To the cabdriver, Valentine's Day immediately meant an excess amount of empty chocolate boxes flying around on the highways and those incredibly annoying newly wedded folks riding in their 'Just Married' cars or limousines or carriages or whatnot. It never mattered what type of vehicle they rode in – they always found some way to cruise down the roads while pretending not to hear their empty tin cans bouncing and thumping and pissing everybody else off.

Upon finding that his honking only managed to lengthen their conversation, he stuck his head out the driver seat window and shouted "Let's get going, man!" to the red-headed suit-wearing man. He soon found that his efforts were wasted, as they seemed to take their time and moved even slower than before. They must have known that he was incapable of leaving the crime lab with an empty backseat; he was on parole and the only business that would even take a glimpse of his résumé was the taxi-driving company. He would have settled for being homeless if they had told him that he was to be the personal chauffeur of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab and the Miami-Dade Police Department as well.

But they failed to mention that, and having been duped by the authorities, decided to drive as foolishly as he possibly could with a police officer – a Lieutenant, even – riding along with him without getting arrested again. And yes, that was the best retaliation scheme he could come up with in such short notice.

"I'm going now. If I wait any longer for Mr. Wolfe…" Horatio Caine took the black sunglasses he had been fiddling with and put it on in the most dramatic way the cabdriver had seen someone wear shades.

"…I'm afraid I'll miss the only flight going to the conference." He cocked his head until it rested on his right shoulder then looked straight at Alexx. "As a matter of fact, Alexx, I certainly am afraid of what you will do if that does happen."

Horatio placed his hands on his hips (completing his signature look) as his colleagues' hearty laughs filled the air. Seeing them this light-hearted even got the more-often-than-not-dead-serious Lieutenant to crack a smirk that Ryan, still MIA, failed to experience.

Eric Delko offered to carry Horatio's lone suitcase down the steps and into the backseat of the taxi, earning a pat on the back from his boss. Calleigh Duquesne and Alexx Woods followed the two men.

"All right. Calleigh, you're in charge. If Mr. Wolfe does not show himself in the next few minutes, please give him another call. It's not like him to be late, understand?"

Calleigh, the temporary Lieutenant, nodded once as a substitute for a worded reply.

To the cabdriver's relief, Horatio finally opened the passenger side door, climbed inside, and slammed the door. He waited for the glass window to slide down, then stuck his right arm out the window, waving a good-bye to the three left behind.

They responded with waves as well, and continued to do so until the taxi was on the road once more and their boss' red hair was no longer distinguished.

"Well, guys, I have to go. There's a lot of paperwork waiting for me in the morgue." Alexx made her way back to the air-conditioned crime lab.

Calleigh became worried as she took a glance at her cell phone. "I wonder where Ryan is," she said to Eric. They were about to turn around and go back inside, when, almost as if on cue, Ryan's usually spic-and-span dark blue Honda civic turned into the driveway of the lab.

"I found him," Eric said, trying to stifle his laughter when he saw that his friend's car was now half-blue and half-soil. It looked like it had gotten stuck in a pool of mud on his way to work. The Cuban couldn't hold it in anymore, which resulted in a loud snort before he burst out laughing. He got a slap on the chest by Calleigh for that one.

Ryan parked the car in his reserved parking space, amazingly not caring how his vehicle wasn't rightly postitioned in the middle. He exited the driver's side wearing a red, white, and pink pinstriped long-sleeved shirt along with a pair of dark blue jeans and leather shoes that looked too polished to be an old pair of his.

While Eric was calming down from his outburst, Calleigh couldn't help but smile secretly to herself. _Finally, after God knows how many not-so-stylish dress shirts and suits, he wears something that's not totally disgusting. _She looked down at her own outfit – a white collared blouse underneath a bold red v-neck top and black dress pants with her favorite black heels – and felt her girlish self overpowering as she squealed in delight. _We match!_ Then, remembering where she was, hoped that neither man heard her. Looking over to her left was Eric, taking deep breaths while repeating "Oh man. That was good." over and over again to himself. And straight ahead was the reason for Calleigh's squeal then and panic now, running as if the parking lot behind him would suddenly explode.

He skipped every other step on the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of the two, nowhere near panting because his body was accustomed to running.

"Hey Cal. What's the time now?" By then Calleigh had composed herself, relieved to know neither had noticed what had happened. She flipped open her cell phone in compliance to Ryan's question.

"Hey Ryan. Um… 9:29, no wait. 9:30."

Eric spoke up, saying, "With seconds to spare, Wolfe. Nice." They greeted each other hello with a fist pump and a half-smile.

"So what are you guys…oh no. I missed Horatio, didn't I?" Realization dawned on Ryan as he remembered that he was supposed to come a half-hour earlier so he would be present to see his boss leave.

He had informed Horatio numerous times, telling him that there was no way he could change his schedule.

"_H, I respect you, I really do. But you know I can't just rearrange the schedule I've been living on ever since patrol. Even for you."_

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Wolfe, but it's the only flight from here that's heading to the conference on that day. This may be hard, but I need you to come early."_

_Ryan gave a defeated sigh. "All right, okay. I can try. But if I'm not there, please don't fire me."_

_Horatio chuckled slightly. "Come early, Mr. Wolfe. Then you'll never have to live with the worry that I might fire you." _

Calleigh answered him again. "Yes, you just missed him. But he told me to tell you that – "

"I'm fired, aren't I? I'm done. What… what am I supposed to tell my next employer – if there's even gonna be one? 'My boss fired me because I didn't come early enough to say good-bye to him.' I can't… I can't say that. It's too humiliating. I guess I should start packing now. I should start packing…start packing…now. I guess I should –"

"Whoa, whoa. Easy there. Relax, Wolfe. Nobody's getting fired, okay? Take deep breaths, man." Eric's eyes squinted in confusion and then widened, knowing Calleigh would receive the message.

_What the hell is happening to him?_

She responded with an open mouth and palms facing up, shrugging and shaking her head simultaneously. She walked up to Ryan and started rubbing her hand softly on his back. Though worried about his sudden reaction to a minor mistake, she was joyful for the excuse of the physical contact with Ryan.

Eric held the younger man's shoulder as he took shaky inhales and exhales.

"Ryan, I'm sorry. I meant to say that Horatio told me that if you weren't here for another couple of minutes to give you a call and make sure you were all right."

Ryan acknowledged Calleigh's statement with a nod. "So wait. I'm still working for him?" His tensed muscles relaxed and he stood from his bent-over position, forcing Calleigh to remove her hand from his back.

"Yeah, man. You're still hired to work here." It took all of Delko's willpower not to ask him what happened and not to tease him about it. He did, however, promise himself to grill the man to tell him later.

Ryan threw his hands up in the air as thanks to the higher gods for not being smitten, or worse, fired. He was about to show his gratitude to Calleigh and Delko for helping him calm down when he noticed something odd.

He moved his arms up and down, almost like those old-school weighing scales, until his left arm was slightly higher than his right.

"My left arm's lighter than my right," Ryan stated.

"Your what?" Calleigh asked in disbelief. He wasn't holding onto anything, and it looked like nothing was wrong with him or his arms. Okay, maybe something was up with his brain, but other than that…

"You say that like we're supposed to know. What's going on, Wolfe?" Eric queried.

"My left arm's lighter than my right," he reiterated.

They watched as their co-worker and soon-to-be-straitjacketed friend lifted his left arm and bent it so that the palm of his hand was in front of his face. Then he rotated his wrist until the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt was in full view.

"Aw, crap. Crap, crap, crap." He displayed his cuff for the two to see. "What? What is it?" Calleigh pondered.

"You see that?" Ryan said as he pointed to the spot where a button should have been sewn. "There's no button. That's why it felt lighter." He grinned (because he figured it out), despite the fact that a missing button was a real problem.

Delko's eyebrows furrowed while Calleigh wrinkled her nose. Both were speechless.

Delko was the first to find his voice. "Your left arm weighed less…because it didn't have a button but the right cuff did…How the hell were you able to feel that?"

Before he could answer Calleigh spoke up. "It's just a button, Ryan."

"No, Cal, it's not _just_ a button. I'm never gonna be able to function properly if one arm is lighter than the other."

"Well, why don't you just roll up your sleeves?" Calleigh debated.

"Now that I know the reason, rolling up my sleeves isn't going to make a difference."

"Yeah, Calleigh. It's like that thing everybody says, _'you can't run away from your problems'._ And this, obviously, is a problem to our friend here," Delko mocked.

Ryan, oblivious as ever, agreed. "Exactly. Come on. Let's get inside so I can change."

"But, I still don't understand how a button can make that much of a weight discrepancy," Delko marveled.

"You're into sayings, Delko. It's like that old saying: _'if something feels lighter than the other, it's time to change your shirt.'_"

"Uh…I don't think that's a saying, Ryan."

"Really, Cal? I've been saying it for years."

* * *

**A small note: the 'fist pump' is actually a props. & that the last lines between Calleigh & Ryan were inspired by the show _Monk_. Comments & advice will be rewarded by another chapter soon enough.**

**A big thanks also to the reviewers who have favorited either my story or me. Learning that made me feel warm & fuzzy. Hehe.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Terribly sorry for taking almost a week to update. I've had a bit of trouble cutting down some irrelevant info in this chapter, but i've kept it longer than usual as compensation. Besides, i think my story's on the 5th page already & we all know nobody looks on the 5th page. Thank you though, for the continued comments.  
**

**If you're a worthy follower, you might have noticed that i changed the summary. I hope it's a more accurate one, seeing as how i'm taking a teensy bit longer to get to the great mix-up. Please please stick with me; the point of this story will come... eventually.**

**I'd also like to remind you readers again that a lot of the sections in each chapter are going to be happening at the same time, so the time i've put in before the story is there to keep you updated on the time & to help understand. If it's too confusing, please let me know & i'll do what i can to fix it.**

**So. Enjoy.**

* * *

_9:33 AM_

Annie had reappeared once the three criminalists were inside. The receptionist had returned only moments ago from walking Gloria to her car in the underground parking lot.

Evidently missing Cooper's encounter with the deliveryman, Annie also neglected to notice the two absent cupcakes (one was safe in Wonderboy's digestive system, and the second was attracting insects while bathing in the hot Miami sun) because her cell phone suddenly shrilled.

She rummaged through her large leather handbag as she walked by her plates of cupcakes, and was sure that the caller would get impatient but on the 4th ring her hand recognized the rectangular shape of the Nokia phone. Triumphantly she yanked her left hand out of the bag, glimpsed at the Caller ID, smiled, and pressed the green button.

It had been a girlfriend of hers, no doubt chattering to her about her latest date with Annie's stepbrother, who was her age. While she was describing her 'perfect date' (having said that every single one of her dates with him had been 'perfect', this made it perfect date number 8), and how the tablecloths at the fancy restaurant were oh-so-soft, she remembered the red tablecloth she had stashed in her handbag after buying it at the dollar store.

Once again she dipped her hand into her bag and pulled out the product she had purchased. Muttering "yeah" and "uh huh" every couple of seconds to satisfy her friend, she unfolded the cloth.

--

_9:33 AM_

Ryan, Calleigh, and Eric entered the crime lab one at a time through the front doors.

Eric's nose picked up on a sugary aroma. "I smell…" He pointed his chin to the sky and sniffed. "…Annie's annual Valentine's Day cupcakes." He wanted to take one while she was nowhere in sight.

"I wouldn't –" Ryan was suddenly cut off by an ear-piercing ringtone. His hands flew to his ears, covering them in an attempt to stop the sound. He looked up to see Calleigh and Eric looking at him funny.

"Did you guys hear that?"

Eric crossed his arms and arched his shoulders back so he looked even manlier and more superior to the cowering younger man. The magenta long-sleeved shirt he was wearing even gave him the look of royalty; _I'm the king of the castle, and you're the dirty rascals! _He chanted in a singsong voice somewhere in the back of his mind. Apparently a weirder than usual Ryan brings out his immature side. Add that to his lack of sugar and that pretty much equaled a mentally unbalanced Eric Delko.

Calleigh shook her head slowly while Eric just stood there. Ryan's eyebrows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled. He briefly wondered if he was just imagining the noise. _Why not? Everything else just seems to go oddly wrong today._ Ridding himself of those thoughts he took a deep breath, and restated his previous reply.

"What I meant to say was that I wouldn't –" And there it was again. That same ear-splitting noise from before. Ryan squinted and turned his head slightly away from where the squeak was coming from. After a few seconds the noise stopped, and upon swiveling his head back to its original position he caught sight of Annie with one hand deep down her handbag.

"Ryan? You have that look on your face again. Just like with the button fiasco from outside. What'd you figure out just now?"

"I know what it is. It's –" He was interrupted once more by the sound and instead of showing Calleigh and Eric (especially Eric) that it hurt his ears, he closed his mouth and let his nostrils flare as a deep exhale escaped his lungs.

He tried again, talking faster, "The reason why you couldn't –" This time he shut his eyes while his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. His bystanders continued to wait patiently with hands clasped and smirk while bobbing to a silent melody (it's easy to guess which person was doing what).

He decided to give it one last shot. "Delko. I was going to tell you that I wouldn't steal one just yet, because I heard the elevator ding and saw Annie walk in our direction. But then I –" Ryan paused, and while watching the receptionist answer her cell phone found that his suspicions were correct. No deafening sound rang in his ears.

"And then I heard this sound that neither of you heard. I thought I was hearing things but then I was disrupted mid-sentence by the same sound. See, there's this new ringtone that can only be heard by uh…" He cleared his throat to stall as he racked his brain for the right word. "…by less experienced people. Not necessarily having to do with age, or anything." He looked down to the floor and waited for a heated response from his "more experienced", blond-haired colleague. _If I had my way, Delko wouldn't be here and I'd get to tell her that the extra years she had on her never harmed her timeless beauty._

Calleigh got the gist of what Ryan was having trouble explaining, and smiled at his attempt not to insult her because she was older. _What a cutie,_ she thought.

"Wolfe, what are you rambling about again? Wait. You know what? I don't wanna know." Eric jumped out of his reverie and only heard the last bits of Ryan's speech. He shoved a palm in Ryan's face and walked towards the desk, saying, "You're wasting valuable stealing time."

At this point Annie was in the process of finding her red tablecloth, and was squatting by her handbag. This was Delko's perfect opportunity.

"Y'know, Eric. It's not actually stealing if the person made it for people to voluntarily take." Calleigh called after him. She was shushed harshly by a sugar-craving Cuban.

Giggling quietly, she turned to Ryan. "So. That ringtone? I've read about it. The ones high school kids use so their teachers don't hear their phones ringing, right? Well, next time we have a case in a school, they won't be getting past you. Although the noise would probably burst your ear drums. Blood and pus seeping out of your ears and you'd wobbling all over the place with this sudden wave of vertigo."

He rolled his eyes in response. "Thanks for that horrible scene, Cal. I'll be having nightmares about that tonight, and when I wake up in a cold sweat, I'm gonna call you to tell you that it's your fault we're both awake in the middle of the night."

He earned a playful smack on the chest for his comment, and together they laughed at the possibility of it occurring. Neither one would admit it then and there, but both wouldn't mind getting to chat to the other so late into the night.

Ryan momentarily forgot about his predicament with the button on his shirt as he watched – along with Calleigh – the scene that was playing before them. Eric had successfully made it to the cupcakes without alerting Annie. She was deep into her conversation. Eric was grateful for whoever it was on the other line.

Eric's arm moved similarly like a snake tongue appearing and disappearing in mere seconds. One minute it was beside his broad and macho body, and the next it was back in its place. Though Ryan's eyes were too slow, in that next minute there was a red-frosted heart-shaped cupcake grasped in his hand.

As he reunited with the two, Annie was taking the plates and the piece of paper beside them off the counter, looking straight at the cupcakes but not registering the fact that 3 were missing.. She draped the red tablecloth over the desk while still yammering away on her phone. In the process the cloth covered the cardboard box the deliveryman had dropped on the floor. The trio, plus Annie, didn't notice the box.

Eric held out what was left of the cupcake over to Calleigh. "Whum hm?" He managed to ask with his mouth full. She shook her head as if he had spoken coherently. "No thanks. Sugar this early isn't a good combination for me."

He swallowed. "Suit yourself," he stated as he took another bite.

Ryan narrowed his eyes. "Thanks for asking, Delko. But no thanks."

Eric nodded in response, too delighted to give a nasty retort. _Mm, where have you been these past 365 days? _

They heard a loud grumble.

"What was that?"

"Calm down, Delko. That's just my stomach. I didn't get to eat my breakfast on my way to work today, because I forgot it in my fridge. But it's cool. I've got a backup breakfast in the break room mini-fridge." He nodded to Calleigh as a farewell and proceeded to sarcastically glare at Delko for not wanting to share with him. As he began to walk away he said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go change into more symmetrical clothes."

The Cuban's curiosity peaked at Ryan's previous statement. "Hold up. You _never _forget to do anything, Wolfe. Wanna tell us what's going on with you today?"

Ryan stopped and pondered, but didn't turn around.

"Mm. Maybe later."

--

_9:40 AM_

Eric found Ryan seated on one of the metal benches that ran between two rows of lockers. His locker door was wide open, and he caught Ryan pouring a couple pills on his palm and dry-swallowing them in one gulp. After that he sat there motionless.

"Hey, man. Look what I've got." Eric lifted his arm higher and swung the paper bag he was holding back and forth.

Ryan looked towards the noise and immediately knew what it was. He smiled. "How'd you know it was mine?"

The Cuban flipped the bag to the other side. "I dunno. Maybe 'cause your name's on it." He pointed to the perfectly written _'Ryan Wolfe; Do Not Touch'_ in pitch-black ink.

"Oh. Right. Well, thanks." Ryan became extremely confused. "How come you're so nice all of a sudden?"

"I…I have no clue. I think it's the sugar, but whatever it is, I hope it doesn't last long. I think all these good deeds are beginning to soften me. Either way, don't get used to it."

Ryan finally stood up and reached into his locker for his dark red shirt and a white collar that had a red stripe across it. The white horse and rider on the left side of the upper chest told the other man that it was a Polo. Eric was unsurprised; it was delicately ironed and undoubtedly pressed.

Delko remembered his promise to himself, and decided to question Ryan while they were alone.

"So. You gonna tell me what's up with you?"

"What…what are you talking about?" Ryan took the bag from his friend and pulled out the bagel. He brought one leg over the bench so that he was now horse-riding it and facing Eric at the same time. With the other hand he placed his Polo in front of him.

"You were almost late for work. You forgot to come early to see H leave, and you forgot your breakfast." He pointed to the bagel in his mouth. "Your car's all mucked up. And you were going crazy over a missing button. Look, I know you're OCD, but you're not normally like this."

Ryan shook off his friend's genuine concern for a nosy attitude. "Hey, man. Thanks for the worry. But it's nothing I can't handle."

"C'mon. I brought you your damn breakfast."

He laughed. "That why you were so nice? So you could pry some info outta me?"

"All I'm saying is, I won't be this considerate next time around."

Ryan thought it over. _On one hand, if I tell him, I probably won't ever live it down. On the other, I better take full advantage of his thoughtfulness because it's a rare occurrence._

"I uh…Every year, on February 14th, a bunch of things always go wrong…like, like. 2003, Valentine's Day, 11:58 AM. I was in college. It was lunchtime in the cafeteria. Apparently they had been recalling students who had chosen to eat the spaghetti and meatballs. Some epidemic with the meatballs. But, lucky man that I was, I missed the announcement. I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, and I ended up being in there for 18 minutes. See, there was this ink mark on my fingers, and…it still felt dirty even after it was gone so I kept washing. And washing. And washing." He looked up at Delko with his trademark pleading eyes.

He was aware that it must be hell having OCD, but still. 18 minutes for a tiny ink stain? He was absolutely sure he would never understand how Ryan's brain operated. It was hard for Delko not to make a comment about him washing his hands. So he kept his lips tight and thought of sadder things. _Think dead puppies, Delko. That's sad, right?_

"Anyway, they almost retrieved all the plates before the students had taken a bite. I wasn't fortunate enough. The cafeteria staff found my plate full of noodles and sauce, but no meatballs. I had a supposedly harmless habit of eating the meatballs first."

Delko, knowing that this would take a while, crossed his arms, leaned on the door jamb, swung one leg over the other, bent his toes and kept said foot vertical.

"Oh, and when they found me I was unconscious and my face was planted onto the spaghetti. I woke up in the nurse's office with tomato sauce on my cheeks then fainted at the thought of being carried away with a full-face makeup made from the natural ingredients of a fruit."

So it might have been self-induced humiliation at its best. But if he compared the year-round embarrassment to what's happened to him today it wouldn't stand a chance. Although, he was excited to see what type of karmic joke the higher powers would pull on him during lunchtime.

"It doesn't sound too bad," he remarked after some time.

"Yeah? Well, I wasn't done. I ended up with food poisoning. I became a week behind in all my courses because I had to stay home. I was practically married to my bucket; I never went anywhere in my house without it. Not to mention my best friend was my toilet, who I visited every half hour. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't sit down on the couch without having to vomit."

Eric's face distorted in disgust. "All right, all right. I'm picking up what you're putting down. Just from listening, I might actually puke. Sorry, man. Must've been real bad."

"Don't I know it."

Ryan stood up, took the Polo, and draped it over one arm with the utmost care. He grabbed the paper bag with the other hand and swallowed the last of the bagel.

"So what about those pills I saw you with?"

"Y'know, your unexpected kindness came with a desire to meddle into people's lives. That desire, my friend, is purely unwanted. But after my tearjerker of a story –"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"I see your rudeness is resurfacing. As I was saying, I'm in the mood to share. If you must know, I was having a bit of trouble waking up today, and when I did wake up, I managed to step on my Santa clock. The sole of my foot rammed into the bag of presents Santa was carrying, so I had to yank it out. It stopped bleeding after a while, but it's swollen now. There are 3 Band-Aids on the wound, and it hurts like hell when I walk." He showed Delko his bottle and shook so he could hear that it was almost full. "Don't worry. As miserable as this cursed day is for me, I'm not gonna get myself OD'd. I'm not _that_ desperate. I was sitting in here because I was waiting for the painkillers to kick in."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "You're expecting me to believe that you're taking painkillers for a wound that was caused by a _Santa_ _clock_ over OD-ing on sleeping pills for having one too many Valentine's Day disasters?" He thought it over for a minute then turned his lips into an upside-down smile that was accompanied by a satisfied nod. "Well, if you got the unlucky chance to eat contaminated meatballs in your whole college campus, then you're the perfect person to step on Santa's presents."

"I think there's a compliment in there somewhere; thanks."

"No, there wasn't." Ryan gleamed at Eric, who made way for him to pass through.

"Where you going?"

"Bathroom. I gotta change out of my shirt."

"If you're self-conscious, you can tell me. I can leave."

"Pfft. Please. I have to take a piss anyways. And after telling you one of my Valentine's Day nightmares I noticed a random smudge on my hands. Can't wash my hands in the locker room, now can I?"

"Wait! What about your dirt-wearing Civic? And where did all this whack stuff come from? And why on Valentine's Day?"

"Storytime's over, Delko. Let's save that for another day, all right? Preferably a billion days from now. As for your last question, when you figure that one out, be a gentleman and let me know the answer to my life's greatest mystery."

* * *

**Do you think i've captured the characters' way of talking & overall attitude? I certainly hope so. Comments, suggestions, advice, are on the other side of the button. Please leave me some because i function on reviews.**

**Also. How come whenever it looks REAL long on Microsoft Word it never is on this site? :\**


	6. Chapter 6

**Let me be the first to say that there is a point to the story. I'm just taking a little long to get to the climax. I do hope that you guys are being entertained as i get closer to the best parts.**

**Also. I'll just let you know that i am running purely on reviews. So keep em coming, please. & tell other CaRWash-lovers or Ryan-followers about my story so i'll get more motivated to work faster. Either that or leave even more reviews than you're already contributing. :P Thankies for the comments, btw. **

**One last thing: to those who might get a bit confused... the john bathroom. :) All rightie then: Get to reading!  
**

* * *

_9:53 AM_

Footsteps echoed eerily as Ryan walked down the hallway, extra shirt draped over his arm and breakfast-in-a-bag clutched in his hand.

The soft _thump!_ of his shoes was met with the sharp _click!_ and _clack!_ which he easily recognized as stilettos. He didn't bother turning around to see who it was. He automatically knew who wore what footwear and how they sounded like walking in them. He was fully aware that it was a weird trait…then again he was Ryan Wolfe, and weird was an understatement (according to Delko, anyway).

"Hey, Ryan. Where you headed to?"

"Oh. Hey, Natalia. I am making my way to the bathroom."

Natalia Boa Vista nodded as she looked down to see the things he seemed to be bringing along to the bathroom.

"What are you –"

"Long story." Ryan waved a palm to no one in particular to exaggerate his answer.

"Right. I think I'm better off not knowing."

"I think so too. And I wouldn't wanna traumatize you." A smile crawled onto his face.

She grinned in return. "Anyways, I was just on the phone with Frank."

Ryan's eyebrows crinkled in confusion for the umpteenth time. "No offense, but you're pretty much the rookie of the team. Why would he be calling you first?"

Natalia replied, "None taken. And I asked him the exact same thing. Told me he was too lazy to press the down button on his phone. Y'know, seeing as how Boa Vista trumps Duquesne, Delko, and Wolfe alphabetically." She nudged him with her elbow.

He turned his head to meet her sparkling eyes. "You mean W goes _after_ B? I never would've guessed."

She merely rolled her eyes in response to his sarcasm. Afterwards she gave him a two-can-play-at-that-game expression, to which he raised the hand gripping a paper bag in mock surrender.

"So what'd Frank tell you?"

Natalia quickly returned to professional mode, saying, "He got a call about a quadruple. Wants us all out there. He also said he was gonna come here to pick us up; apparently it's really far and he knows a few shortcuts."

"Might as well follow him so we can get there before the day's over."

"Yeah. He's just gonna go grab some breakfast before he heads over here. Would you mind telling Calleigh when you see her? I'll go and look for Eric. Meet us at the front in 15 minutes?"

Scarcely seen because of the abnormal sleeve, he peeked at the watch on his left wrist; _9:55 AM_.

"All right. Sounds good."

"Great. See you then." She gave him a pat on the back then walked at a quicker pace, only to turn at the end of the hall. Ryan noticed how well her hourglass figure flowed with the black and white skirt she was wearing. Her plain black top showed enough cleavage to be attracted to her, but not so much that every dirty-minded man would stare at her breasts rather than her face.

His favorite part of her outfit was the gracefulness of her skirt, and the abstract patterns. He also liked the red heart that was attached to her gold chain necklace. Oh, and the bold red heels. So, that meant he actually had 4 favorite parts. _That's 3 more than I expected._

He admitted that she was indeed a sight to see, but he never did develop feelings for her. Besides, Eric had a thing for her. If he tried to go out with Natalia again Delko'd probably remember the 100 dollars he still owed him from his first – and most likely last – date with Natalia. _I bet I could put those 100 bucks to good use too; buy some perfectly good shirts that don't lose buttons on their second…no, third wear. And a few extra boxes of wipes never hurt anyone._

His thoughts on how many clothes and disinfectants a spare Ben Franklin could get him were cut short when he heard a deep voice in the audio/video lab. He took a fleeting look through the glass walls. Cooper went from being bent on the computer to sitting straight up in his chair. Calleigh was there too.

_I swear I heard Horatio from in there. _He sighed. _Great. Not only am I going crazy, I'm also hallucinating._

He debated upon entering Cooper's dwelling and letting Calleigh know about the quadruple, but decided against it when he remembered the annoying crisis he had regarding the asymmetrical cuffs.

Upon entering the bathroom, he decided to tell her once he was balanced again…so to speak.

--

_9:55 AM_

Calleigh gulped down the last of her raspberry green tea and threw the Styrofoam cup into the garbage. She decided to go to the bathroom then stroll around the lab, offering help when needed.

Peering into Cooper's lab she realized that she was in the mood for inflicting some torture, and Cooper was the perfect subject. If she could get her bladder to wait a couple minutes and pull this off at the same time, she'd be laughing all the way to the john.

Opening the glass door as quietly as possible, Calleigh found their resident nerd slumped onto his computer. She figured he was taking a nap again. _Sweet mother of pearl. I think I see this guy unconscious more often than awake. _

Thickening her Southern drawl in an attempt to disguise her voice she called out his name.

"Cooper…" She made it a point to elongate the double vowels in his surname, almost in a singsong voice.

She then softened to a whisper, sounding like a ghost as she repeated his name.

"Coooooper…"

Apprehending the fact that he was a heavy sleeper, she had a new approach in mind. Calleigh cleared her throat and exhaled deeply. She took several more breaths for good measure. Inhaling one last time before the act, she bellowed out in an almost ideal pitch.

"Uh… Mr. Cooper." (At this point she was unaware of the puzzled Wolfe standing outside the lab.)

Her impersonated voice pierced through Cooper's dreams and in a flash he was sitting straight up with wide eyes.

"Oh! Horatio, sir. It's not what you think."

Calleigh snorted at Cooper's lightning-fast reflexes, and upon seeing the drool running down his chin doubled up in laughter.

"Relax, Cooper. It's just me. By the way…" She pointed to her own chin.

Dan grabbed a tissue from the box and wiped the saliva. "Thanks."

"So whatcha doin?" Calleigh walked up to where he was seated and saw the wet keyboard.

"You realize you just salivated on your makeshift pillow," she added.

He turned to confirm his suspicions, and while drying the keyboard from its sudden shower blushed in embarrassment. Calleigh noticed it and tried to hide her smile. _Inflicting torture: check._

"I guess my sugar rush ran out and I passed out on the keyboard. Never should have eaten the cupcake at this time of the day."

Dan took the water bottle beside his computer, sloshed it around in the bottle, and drank what was left in seconds. Calleigh's eyes could not look away as gravity did its part in the plastic bottle. _There it was, the clear liquid in its container, flowing freely down…down…down…_

She didn't think she could hold it in for any longer. She squirmed and twitched and convulsed like there was no tomorrow.

The lab tech observed as the criminalist shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Cooper reckoned that he would get his revenge sooner or later for tricking him into thinking Horatio had caught him sleeping on the job (again). He watched as she jumped to try and distract herself from the ready-to-burst bladder she must have been carrying. _I think I'll pick sooner rather than later._

He had to admit, this plan had been one of his better moments. He carried his backpack from the floor onto the desk, and opened the bigger zipper. To Calleigh's dismay there had been numerous bottles of water inside.

Cooper prepared for his payback by shaking a bottle that was already unfastened. The _slosh!_ of the water made Calleigh squeeze her eyes shut. Then he uncapped the bottle and drank slowly. He ensured that even though she refused to see anything, that she could hear _everything_.

"Hey Calleigh?" He thought he heard a squeak of affirmation from her so he continued. "I just _love_ water. H2O. My favorite is when it's liquid, when I can just put it in any container and watch it go back and forth as I sway it." He demonstrated.

"Doesn't it make you thirsty? I'm parched! I think I'll just –"

"You know what? Hold that thought. I'll be right back." She didn't like to lose, but her bladder threatened to let loose at that very moment. Unfortunately for her she was nowhere near a toilet, and it was common knowledge that bladders had no sense of dignity or pride. Hers would have no problem wetting her pants.

He broke into a Cheshire-type smile. _Wonderboy's still got it. She's probably running for her life to the bathroom…wait. Bathroom…_

Cooper removed his contacts and was practically blind for the third time that morning. He ran out his lab and in the direction of the restrooms. His ludicrous Dan-plan was actually in progress!

So maybe it wasn't the most hare-brained scheme on the planet.

--

_9:59 AM_

Dan walked into the bathroom with his lines memorized and actions prepared. But he wasn't able to recite a word or perform a deed as a scream resonated through the walls.

* * *

**So it looks like i'm back to the usual 1000-plus words. & there might be some slight out of character-ness; it was something i thought Calleigh wouldn't do, but Emily Procter would. Close enough, eh?**

**Oh. & i'm from Canada, so i'm not exactly sure if the 100 dollar bill has Ben Franklin on it. It just sounded so fitting, & i'm too lazy to research. If it's not him, let me know. **

**Leave comments, suggestions, _anything_. The more reviews, the faster the chapters come! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Omgosh. it's been a long time since i've updated; so sorry. school's back & it's intense. but since i've strangely acquired the desire to be ahead in all my classes (except math --) this year, i found the time to sneak in a page or two on this slowly building chapter until it was finished. **

**I've lengthened it, more so than the average 1000+ words, cause i've been gone for so long.**

**I hope you guys & gals will still continue to read. if not, at least be remotely interested. if you fake your happiness i wouldn't be able to tell online, either. hehe. **

**So thanks a bunch to those who commented, & even to those who visited. hopefully next time you'll have the energy to leave a review. Enjoy! **

* * *

_9:59 AM_

If someone were to ask Calleigh Duquesne what her favorite sound in the whole world was she'd gladly admit that it was the sound of the toilet flushing away the urine that had caused her so much squirming. Well, maybe it was her third favorite sound. For her second place was firing a bullet round that confirmed a match to a killer.

And ever since he uttered his first word in her presence, gold medal always went to _his voice_.

She rubbed her hands thoroughly with soap and held them out under the faucet. The sensors turned on the water, allowing her to wash off the foam. She then walked over to the drier, and stretched her hands out below it.

That's when she heard it. A low-voiced scream followed by a grunt. It sounded like it came from the men's bathroom. So assuming she was in the closest proximity to the scene, she scurried out the bathroom. Right before she entered, she hesitated.

_On one hand, there could be a crime happening in there at this very moment and no one's in the halls but me. _Nodding to herself she placed two hands on the door, ready to push. _On the other, it could just be a couple guys…fooling around…_

Calleigh decided the first hand outweighed the other and pushed the door, letting herself in as quietly as possible. What she saw, she instantly knew she would never forget.

Dan Cooper was on the floor, curled up into a ball. There didn't seem to be any blood staining his clothes or pooling around him, so Calleigh deduced that he was intact.

She saw the over-shined leather shoes standing behind Cooper's body and immediately knew who it was. Slowly she tilted her head up to see him staring at her, incredulous.

The sight to remember wasn't Cooper in fetal position or the "suspect's" reaction (though it would have made for a perfect Kodak moment). It was his bare muscled chest. Emphasize on the words _bare _and _muscled_.

Calleigh considered him to be insanely handsome just from the face alone. Now that he was half-naked…_scratch 'insanely handsome'. This man is godly!_

She helplessly stared at his bare skin. It was slightly paler than his face, but a little trip to the beach (preferably with her) could fix that. His compulsiveness most likely motivated him to exercise frequently to remain in tip-top shape. She found no reason to object his uncontrollable urge to work out so often.

He was toned perfectly. 4-pack abs that shaped his stomach. Rock hard pecs underneath that little tuft of chest hair she'd always gawk at whenever his shirt was unbuttoned. Biceps that seemed to grow bigger every year; she swore they looked more muscular than Eric's. And the tattoo. She'd only seen part of it once, when he lifted his arms in frustration and his bright orange t-shirt failed to cover the ink. (As obsessive as he was about symmetry, she never did understand how he could have a tattoo on one arm but not the other.)

She took one last glance at his upper body. Feeling strangely certain she would get to see him shirtless another time, Calleigh didn't bother burning the image in her memory.

Inside she knew she was being extremely childish and girly. Calleigh hadn't felt so humiliated since she'd got her braces jammed into Tommy Wilson's braces in the sixth grade. They weren't even trying to kiss each other; someone had inadvertently pushed her to him while they were showing each other their practiced smiles for Picture Day. Her photo that year wasn't one to particularly show off.

Pushing her rather unclean thoughts about you-know-who out she made eye contact with him once more. He still eyed her with that astonished look.

Regaining composure, she spoke up. "What? Did you think there was some sort of force field in front of the bathroom that forbade women to enter?"

He didn't blink, but he did turn red as a tomato. She was glad he didn't notice her salivating over him.

"Ryan Wolfe. Are you telling me you actually thought there was an invisible wall?"

"Well… why would they have separate bathrooms if anyone could just go in whichever one they wanted to?"

Calleigh opened her mouth to voice her rebuttal when Cooper cut her off.

"Yo. Dude. What the hell was that?" He struggled to stand up, so he remained crouched while protecting his stomach with both arms.

Calleigh dropped the subject and posed the obvious question. "So what exactly happened?"

Cooper was trying to stand straight, but it didn't work out. He looked like Quasimodo, only without the hunch. Or the lovable personality.

"Why don't you ask Mr. Uptight?" he said, gesturing at Ryan. He was about to leave the room when he said, "I've learned two lessons: never surprise this guy from behind, and always wear contacts."

After watching him leave, Calleigh turned to him, "Care to tell me what happened, Mr. Uptight?"

"This happened." Ryan waved a hand over the floor in front of him. She didn't notice it before; Cooper must have been covering it before.

She peered down to see his extra shirt – the red Polo – and what looked like orange juice on the floor. The shirt was soaked in the liquid and the plastic bottle was rolling back and forth on the tiles.

She squinted. "I take it that was your backup shirt." He nodded.

"I'm sure Eric has an extra shirt lying around somewhere."

"No thanks. It's probably too big for me anyway."

All of a sudden he lit up. "Tell you what. Can you go to my locker and get me my other shirt? I'll clean up the juice here."

"Sure." Calleigh turned around to leave then turned back. "Wait. You have a backup shirt for your backup shirt?"

Ryan shrugged. "I like to be prepared."

"I'm not so sure 'prepared' is the right word." '_Paranoid' is more like it._

--

_10:04 AM_

Calleigh returned to the bathroom with Ryan's backup-backup shirt. It was exactly the same as the red Polo stained with orange juice; dark red with a prominent red stripe across the white collar. And just as flawlessly ironed and pressed as the other one. _At least we still match,_ she thought.

She walked in to see Ryan in front of the sink, scrubbing his hands like the end of the world would come if they weren't clean enough.

He didn't notice her standing there, but words seemed to be leaving his mouth.

"Scrub, scrub, scrub. One, two, three. Under the nails, between the fingers, if you're slow as a snail, the bacteria lingers. Rinse, rinse, rinse. One, two, three."

Calleigh thought, odd as he was, that he _would_ make up a hand-washing song. _Only him,_ she supposed.

She watched as Ryan flicked his wet fingers a total of three times. Then he repeated the routine and sang the song. Before he scrub, scrub, scrubbed his hands with the soap she saw that the skin was bright pink.

"I'm surprised you have any skin left with all that grating you're doing."

"…if you're slow as a –" He looked at the mirror to catch a glimpse of her smirk. Her reflection was wonderful.

"Uh… how much did you hear?"

"Pretty much everything." She paused. "'_Slow as a snail?'_"

He blushed. "I had to kneel on the floor and touch it. It was pure torture. I don't think I've got all the dirt out, even with all the washing. Oh, and watch your step."

Ryan pointed to the tiles, now glistening.

"Once I cleaned up the juice I had to clean the rest of the floor."

Calleigh was at a loss for words. "I wasn't even aware the tiles in the bathrooms were _white_."

He smiled. She handed him his shirt, taking her time to get within reach so as to not slip.

"Thank you." He pulled the shirt over his head. Afterward, he gathered his long-sleeved shirt with the missing button and paper bag in one hand. In the other he took tweezers from his jean pocket and clipped the prongs onto the wet Polo. He walked over to the garbage can – it was almost filled to the brim with the tissues he used to sluice the floor. Then he let go of the tweezers, and watched as the red shirt weighed down the dirtied tissues farther.

"Ryan… why did you just throw a perfectly usable shirt down the trash?"

He gave her a dumbfounded look. "_Perfectly usable?_ That shirt's riddled with bacteria and orange juice! Did I mention bacteria? There's no way it'll be clean enough for anybody."

"Are you just particularly strange on Valentine's Day? Even more so obsessive-compulsive than usual?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Cause I don't think I can handle you like this more than once every 365 days."

Ryan opted for changing the topic, knowing she would get nosy and ask why. He didn't need another Delko, meddling into his humiliating past. "By the way – did you hear about the quadruple? I told Natalia we'd meet her at the front in about 9 minutes."

Calleigh saved her prodding questions for later. Top priority as of now was the case. "We're all on the case?"

He nodded in response, leading her out of the bathroom by touching the small of her back. If it wasn't such a serious situation she would have tingled with joy at the contact. He would have too.

They walked in seamless stride.

"How about I tell you what I did to Cooper on the way?"

--

_9:57 AM_

_Dan Cooper was an eager man. Sure, he was sort of perverted, but who didn't know that already? _

_He treaded to the set of bathrooms confidently, and set his thoughts straight. He wasn't nervous; Wonderboy was obviously the smooth-talker of the bunch._

_He pushed the tall metal door open as silently as he could. He didn't want to lose the element of surprise on Calleigh. What he didn't notice – blinded by both his eyes and his pride – was that he entered the wrong bathroom. _

_Cooper saw in front of him a red blob with dark pants (recall that two criminalists were dressed in matching colors). He wondered for a second where here luscious blond hair had gone but figured the lights were messing with his eyes. _

_Although in actuality she was inches taller with a broader build, and she wasn't a she._

_He watched through unclear eyes as she removed her shirt. She took something out of a paper bag; he couldn't make out what it was. _

_Dan crept up to her, opened his fists slowly, and set them on her bare shoulders. He heard her yelp a manly scream and drop whatever she was holding._

_Everything had been a blur, literally. His stomach met her elbow and he keeled over in agony. A low groan escaped his mouth as he fell on his side and pulled his knees up to his chest in defense. Who was this?_

_He in no way would have thought Calleigh was this powerful. Now he knew never to mess with her again. Ever. _

_She turned around and exclaimed "Cooper?!" in a voice that was certainly not hers. _

_Cooper opened his eyes and gave who was supposed to be Calleigh a blank stare. "Wolfe? That you?"_

"_Damn right it's me. What the hell were you doing, touching me like that? It's… it's unethical. Immoral. Plain wrong." Ryan's expression softened. "Sorry for being so harsh. You know I don't swing that way, don't you? I like…I like girls, Coop." _

"_What? No! I'm not gay! I thought… I thought you were Calleigh, man. Just, keep this between you and me?" _

_Ryan's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. "Why would Cal be in here? Wait. You know what? Don't tell me." His eyebrows relaxed just as a smirk formed on his lips. "I can't promise you I'll keep it quiet. Too good of an opportunity to pass."_

_Ryan looked down and saw the mess Cooper had caused him to create. "Cooper, man, look what you made me do." He was in too much pain to turn around. _

"_What'd I make you do?"_

"_My shirt's all marinated in my orange juice." _

_The door opened and Calleigh entered the room. _

_­_--

_10:10 AM_

Calleigh doubled up in laughter after Ryan finished divulging the story. Her laughter was so lovely and so contagious that he joined her.

Neither of them wanted to verbalize what Cooper was doing looking for Calleigh, but they undoubtedly speculated about it on their own.

They reached the foyer in time to see Natalia and Delko walking towards them from the opposite direction. They were chatting comfortably with each other.

Delko was the first to speak once they met.

"Hey guys. Frank here yet?"

Calleigh and Ryan had calmed down by then. "Hey. No, not yet. Probably delayed by the disgruntled businessmen invading the coffee shops," Ryan replied.

Each nodded in understanding, evidently having experienced it before.

"We oughta get some new java here to replace the sludge the city calls coffee." Natalia said after an awkward silence.

"No wonder it's free," Calleigh added, "they probably scoop it up from outside and dump it in our cups."

"That your early morning chitchat? Talkin' 'bout your lousy coffee?" Tripp strode up to the four.

Detective Frank Tripp, the team's go-to guy for police related issues and football updates. Oh, and he's pretty good at detecting, too.

Today he sported a beige suit, along with a white button down underneath and a red tie. The team eyed the pink hearts that decorated the tie.

Frank looked down. "What? They're a gift from my ex-wife about a billion years ago."

The men tried to hide their chuckles while the women attempted to suppress their disgust.

Frank, completely oblivious, just sipped some of his one-cream-two-sugar coffee.

"So Frank, eat breakfast already?" Delko asked, averting his gaze from the tie.

"On the way here. Had a sandwich and a donut." His cell phone rang. "Hang on."

They watched as Frank took out his cell and answered it gruffly. He certainly wasn't very pleased having to wrestle about half of the coffee shop's customers and threatening the other half with false accusations so early in the day. He wasn't looking forward to the two dozen complaints he'd receive either.

Ryan fidgeted and looked around the main hall of the lab. He gazed at everything but Tripp's tie; there was a coffee stain on it. A speck was the exact term, but whether it was a gigantic blot or a microscopic drop, now that he saw it made no difference.

He set his gaze upon the receptionist, whose ear was pressed into the receiver of her telephone. She nodded to the person on the other line, probably expecting them to see her acquiescing.

Annie stood up slightly, craned her neck until she could see the counter of her desk, and spoke into the receiver. She then looked up to a set of footsteps that belonged to a deliveryman, much like the one who entered somewhat unnoticed earlier that morning.

He carried a cardboard box, similar to the box hidden under the tablecloth Annie had draped over the counter. The man had her sign on the paper attached to the clipboard, then turned around to leave without so much as acknowledging the five other people in the vicinity.

"Yes, sir," Annie noted, "the package just arrived… no, lieutenant, I don't know why he came so late… yes, I'll let them all know… goodbye, lieutenant."

She finished her call just as Frank closed his cell.

"That was a detective from the county next to us. Apparently the 911-responder misunderstood; the scene's .03 miles out of our jurisdiction. That's a relief," each CSI narrowed their eyes at this, to which Frank quickly replied, "not that 4 dead people is a good thing. Just that we wouldn't have to drive up there anymore."

Their faces relaxed. "Yeah. Would have been a hell of a road trip," Delko commented, making eye contact with Ryan.

Ryan took a step forward. "You wanna go? Huh, Delko?" he taunted as he spread his shoulders and motioned to him with his arms.

They grinned in unison and the tension quickly dissipated.

Annie called them over to her desk, waving her arm in huge strokes and with so much speed Ryan was sure her arm would fly off any moment.

"The lieutenant asked me to tell you that there's something he wants you to do. He didn't inform me of the details, so all I know is it has something to do with filling out some form. It's all in the letter he gave to me, which is on the counter next to the cupcakes. Feel free to take one, by the way. And lastly, he says he can't stress it enough that it must be done before he gets back tomorrow, or 'you might find yourself unemployed.'" She glimpsed at their wide-eyed expressions. "His words exactly," she replied in defense. Annie pointed to the letter and sat back down on her swivel chair.

The group then walked to the white paper as the receptionist made an announcement for everyone else to come down to the front and pick up a form to fill out before the day's end. She even used the same quote from Horatio to scare them into arriving sooner rather than later.

Calleigh found herself standing in front of the typed document from their boss. She took a perfectly manicured hand and grasped the paper in it, clearing her throat in the process.

She began to read the note to the hastily expanding crowd.

* * *

**sluice & acquiesce, eh? how incredibly smart do those sound? thank god for microsoft word's thesaurus. :D**

**it's not much of a cliffhanger, just that i couldn't think of what should be on Horatio's letter.**

**so i'm gonna try my hardest to have the next chapter before the end of next month. please please leave comments. they'll encourage me to write faster. **


End file.
